The Memories We Cherish
by Rain-on-ocean
Summary: A series of Erasermic one-shots - mostly based off of tumblr prompts and reddit forums. Full of fluff and consensual goodness.
1. Chapter 1

«You're joking.»

«Why would I be joking?»

«You _have_ to be kidding with me right now."

The two of them are sitting in their shared apartment, enjoying a free evening with some quality time TV and a glass of alcohol.  
Although _quality_ might be debatable...

Yamada props his feet up onto the lounge table and sinks backwards into the cushions, gesturing purposefully towards the TV.  
"This is a great show!" he proclaims. "It's got everything! Talent, drama, suspense…"

Aizawa scoffs, nearly choking on his drink.  
"'Talent' is an ambiguous term. Him, that guy."

Aizawa points at the screen as a man in his early twenties proceeds to drink a mouthful of water, pinches his nose, and squirts the liquid out of his eye to extinguish four lit candles set on a table in front of him, one by one.  
The audience loses its goddamn mind.

"Is that talent?"

Yamada frowns dubiously, and cocks his head in ponder.  
"Well, that's… certainly _unusual_ … not being a quirk and all…"

"But is it _talent?_ "

The man on stage is momentarily buzzed by all three judges, who appear to be horrified by what they just witnessed. Yamada sips his gin-and-tonic thoughtfully.

"Theoretically", he begins, "a talent is a unique skill. Something special or above average. I've never seen a guy extinguish open flames by squirting out his eye-juices before… so yeah, I think it's a talent."

Aisawa side-eyes his blonde companion from his designated corner of the sofa.  
"I could probably do that too, you know. It's only 'unique' because nobody's attempted it before, and it's utterly stupid." He shrugs indifferently. "It holds no real purpose."

Yamada grins, and moves to rise from the couch.  
"You can do it too, huh? I'll find a candle you can eye-squirt your gin-and-tonic onto".

"Great".  
Aizawa reaches over to grab the remote control that's been squeezed in between the cushions where Yamada previously sat.  
"Meanwhile I'll change the channel to something good."

"Hey!"

Yamada hastily sits back down, trapping Aizawa's hand underneath his butt. The remote control is squished between the layers, switching channel from the news, to bad sit-coms, to a documentary on middle-eastern pottery.

"I was watching that!"

Aizawa looks unimpressed.  
"So was I," he drawls. "I got bored. Now let's watch something else."

Yamada huffs and drills his bottom deeper into the sofa, trapping Aizawa's hand entirely.  
"No fair!"

"Yes fair."

"I called dibs!"

"I called double-dibs."

Yamada promptly places his glass of alcohol on the lounge table, and apparently Aizawa finds it wise to do the same. Both of them are preparing for a prolonged scuffle.

The two of them spends a long moment staring at each other suspiciously, waiting for the other one to make a move.

Then Aizawa grimaces.  
"You're cutting my circulation off. I'm pretty sure my hand has turned blue…"

Yamada is glaring guardedly at Aizawa, his bottom lip swelling into a distinct pout.  
"You saying I'm heavy?"

"The heaviest pro-hero that ever lived."

Yamada knows he's being baited, but the line still has to be drawn somewhere. As the cockatoo blonde releases an indignant shriek, Aizawa tears his hand free and recoils into his corner of the sofa. Yamada pounces on him the next instant, only to be kicked back by Aizawa's lanky legs as the latter flails the remote control desperately, pressing random buttons toward the general direction of the TV.

The channel switches from nature documentaries to soap-operas, TV-dramas, house design, sports games…

Yamada struggles with his obstacles, offended abhorrence quickly transforming into misery.  
"Shoutaaaaaaaa", Yamada whines, sour-smelling feet squishing his cheeks together. Aizawa smirks at him.

"I've never seen you look this beautiful before. Truly, a work of art".

"Give me the remote back!"

Aizawa keeps switching through channels as Yamada struggles to restrain his legs.  
"Pfft, dream on."

His attention is drawn back to the TV as an old action movie, one that he recognises from his childhood, enters the screen. His expression is softened by nostalgia, and he turns up the volume slightly.  
"Hey, let's watch this."

Yamada groans in despair as he fights to push Aizawa's feet away from his face.  
"You've watched that movie like a thousand times!"

"Don't be ridiculous."

Yamada finally manages to push Aizawa's legs out of the way, and he grabs the remote with his right hand while the left clashes with Aizawa's underarm. They both struggle to overpower the other, Yamada grunting with effort as he stretches for the remote that Aizawa keeps at a safe arm length's distance away from him. Their legs intertwine as Aizawa edges further and further towards the ledge of the sofa in an attempt to keep away the remote control's vicious usurper, which ultimately results in them both toppling over onto the carpeted floor of the living room. They land in a messy pile of limbs and quarrelling.

"Give me the remote control back or I'll-!"

"Are you five?"

Yamada finally manages to grab the remote, but Aizawa is grasping it just as tightly as he is. The channel changes to a singing program, and Yamada's face lights up.  
"Oh oh oh! Shouta, Shouta can we watch-"

Then it changes to a murder mystery.

"Hey, that looks interesting."

Yamada splays his thumb over all the buttons in retaliation, making Aizawa sigh in deep annoyance.  
"Hizashi, you _always_ get to decide what we-"

The channel changes once again, and suddenly, Aizawa's train of thought disappears, and he forgets his oncoming tirade completely.

Cats.  
Thin cats, plump cats, scrawny cats, stout cats, all in a colour scheme varying from orange, to white, to straw-yellow, to black, and so on. Spotted ones, striped ones, some running after balls of yarn or bickering playfully with other felines of the same species.

Aizawa's mouth forms a tiny 'o' as he's staring transfixed at the screen, as if he's been caught in a hypnosis.

And in Yamada's opinion, he might as well be. He has to admit, this both amuses and disturbs him.

Amuses, well, first of all because that soft, innocent look on Aizawa's face is positively _adorable_.  
And secondly disturbing because Yamada honestly does _not_ want to spend his first work-free evening in over two months watching cats either run around with string or unabashedly lick their own genitalia.

"Whaaaat? You can't mean you wanna watch boring _cats_ just run around and do boring _cat stuff_?"

The channel changes again, and this time, Aizawa actually takes personal offence.  
"Hey! Hizashi, turn it _back_."

The pair is back to scuffling and rolling around along the carpet, both fighting for the dominant position on top. Aizawa wraps his legs around Yamada's waist, struggling to sit upright and wedge the remote out of the stupid cockatoo's grasp. Yamada takes hold of Aizawa's shoulders and spins them around, claiming the top position once again.

Their breathing comes out in laborious pants now, Yamada lying flat against Aizawa as their joined hands wave the controller around.  
And suddenly their eyes lock for the first time since their childish little fight began.

It only takes a split second for Yamada to finally acknowledge how _close_ they are, their bodies pressed tightly against one another on the carpeted floors. His pulse quickens as heat rises in his cheeks, and he can feel Aizawa's heart thumping against his own rhythm.

Aizawa stares up at him with a dazed look in his eyes, his warm breath brushing against Yamada's neck.

Both their grips around the remote loosen gradually, and for a long moment: all they do is stare into each other's eyes.

"We both haven't been able to just… unwind and relax. For weeks." Yamada murmurs, his free hand combing gently through Aizawa's tangled hair.

Aizawa slowly raises a hand to brush Yamada's blonde curls behind one ear, picking his orange shades off his nose and tossing them away dismissively, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.  
Then that same hand finds its way to the nape Yamada's neck, pulling him in for an inviting kiss.

The tension they both felt just a second ago is ebbing away, gradually being replaced by a different kind of tension. Yamada sighs contentedly as the kiss deepens, and he feels Aizawa let go of the remote to let his hands roam over Yamada's back.

The noise coming from the TV is all of a sudden _very_ distracting, and Yamada somehow finds the presence of mind to turn the screen off, then discards of the remote with a flick of his wrist. He might have flung it into a wall and broken it for all he cares, and a sharp 'thud' - followed by clattering sounds in the distance - tells him that he probably did.

Yamada hears Aizawa sigh heavily as Yamada's trailing kisses along his stubble to gently nib at his ear. "That's not coming out of _my_ pay check you know…"

Yamada pulls back long enough to grin cheekily down at his boyfriend, shrugging while gently running his thumb along Aizawa's jawline.  
"Whoops."

Aizawa smirks and pulls Yamada in for another kiss.

All support is highly appreciated, especially reviews! I want to get better!


	2. Chapter 2

Possibly the silliest fic I could produce, but alright.

* * *

The door to the apartment nudges open with an almost inaudible 'click', followed by the soft creak from slightly rusty hinges. A dark figure creeps inside, closing the door shut as silently as possible. He slipps off his shoes and places them neatly against the wall next to the other pairs.  
He hangs his winter jacket onto the closes coat-rack, then peers around the corner to check for the other inhabitants of the flat.

A soft 'meow' escapes his scarf.

"Shhhh," Aizawa whispers, a finger against his lips, gently scratching the little feline behind her ears. "Hizashi's gonna catch us if you don't keep quiet."

The kitten purrs in response to the itch, but Aizawa can tell it is still uncomfortable in its make-shift pouch woven out of metallic fibre. He'll have to find someplace to put it before breaking the news to Yamada, lest he seeks to be caught red-handed and have a lesser chance of actually keeping the animal as a pet.

"You get to sleep on my pillow while I sort this out with the missus, ok?"

The kitten yawns in response, curling into a fuzzy, black ball of fur. Aizawa takes the movement as his cue to make a move, carefully stepping foot into the living room. The TV is on, showcasing some celebrity talk show, so Yamada should indeed be at home. Aizawa can't hear any noise from the kitchen though, so the other man is probably in the bathroom.

He tip-toes nonetheless through the hallway, up the few creaking steps of stairs and past the door to the laundry room/brooms closet.

A sigh of relief slips out his mouth as he successfully sneaks by the bathroom door. He smiles down at the kitten nuzzled up against his chest.

"Looks like we're home free." He whispers covertly, reaching out for the door handle to their shared bedroom.

Only the door handle moves before he touches it, and his heart sinks in his chest.

Yamada opens the door with a flourish, nearly stalking straight into Aizawa who takes a reflexive step backwards. He blinks in surprise at the familiar face, then grins good-naturedly.

"Oh! Shouta, I didn't know you were home yet!"

Yamada leans in to peck a greeting on his usual scruff, which wouldn't normally be a problem, only this time there's a soft baby cat hidden against Aizawa's chest that he wouldn't want to squeeze flat. He takes another reflexive step back, heat rising in his cheeks when he spots the obvious confusion spreading over Yamada's features. The blond blinks a second, and a third time.

"What's wrong?"

 _Come up with a convincing lie_.

"I've… got a rash. I don't want you to irritate it."

Yamada leans in to squint at his face.  
"Really? Where? You look totally normal to me."

Well, that was a poor excuse. Aizawa kicks himself mentally and averts his eyes, trying his best to cloak his emotions with a camouflage of mild indifference. It's pretty convincing, as it is his specialty after all.

"Oh, it's gone? It was still there this morning…"

Yamada inspects his cheek carefully, before he shrugs it off and waves a dismissive hand.  
"Anyway, I was thinking we could go out for ramen later, if that's ok with you-"

" _ **Meeeeeoooooooow**_ _._ "

Yamada stares blankly at Aizawa, his eyebrows slowly knitting together into a look of incredulous puzzlement.  
"Excuse me?"

"What?"

"Did your scarf just _'meow'_ at me?"

Aizawa hesitates, tongue rolling idly in his mouth as he tries to think of a good response.

"No."

Yamada reaches for the carbon fibres, and since Aizawa doesn't want to pull away in case the small kitten tumbles to the floor and hurts itsef, he lets Yamada peer into the dark depths of his neckwear. There's a brief silence, then—

"Oh my god."

"I can explain—"

"It's a KITTEN!"  
Aizawa pauses when he picks up on the strangely ecstatic tone of his voice.

"It's… yeah?"

Yamada looks up at Aizawa with sparkles in his eyes, a wide grin spreading his cheeks apart.  
"Shooouutaaaaaaa~ You brought a kitten home!"  
He recovers from his fit of inconceivable cuteness and frowns in confusion.  
"Wait… you brought a kitten home. Where did you find it?"

Aizawa lifts the kitten from its temporary hammock and leaves it in the crook of his arm for better petting-accessibility.  
"Old Genjou-san was handing them out at the corner down the road. Her own cat had another batch of kits, she can't afford to care for them all."

"Oh…"

Yamada bends down to examine the little fur-ball closer. It's completely black, with bright yellow eyes, and staring up at him with a droopy look in its eyes. He can see why Aizawa took an immediate liking to it.

"Wait wait wait— you just _adopted_ _a pet_ without even asking my opinion first?"

Aizawa visibly cringes, his petting coming to a halt.  
"I mean… I did try to call you. Plus it's pretty cold out, so..."

Yamada fishes his phone out of his pocket and checks the display dubiously.  
"Ok, well… but why did you decide to just _do_ it anyway?"

"Hizashi."

Aizawa lifts the tiny kitten in both of his folded hands, holding it up to Yamada like how Rafiki held baby Simba in The Lion King.

"Just LOOK at it."

Yamada looks sceptically into the amber eyes of the yawning kitten, then to Aizawa, whose eyes are wide agape with astonishment and aspiration. He doesn't usually sport that kind of expression unless he's thoroughly impressed by a student, or notices a cat do something stupidly cute, but…

Somehow Yamada just can't say no to it.

The pro hero cockatoo firmly pinches the bridge of his nose, heaving a heavy sigh of defeat. "Fine… fine, we can keep it."

Aizawa's face lights up with bliss and delight, but before he can shower his boyfriend with endless gratitude, Yamada holds up a stern finger in foreboding.

" _If_ I get to pick the name."

Suddenly Aizawa's face is tinted a faint, nauseous green, which leads Yamada to bite the inside of his cheek to keep his indigence in check. Aizawa knows he's lost though, so he can only mimic Yamada's stern expression in return and plant his own ground rules.

"Nothing too flashy or obnoxious."

"I was thinking: Glitter."

" _No_."

"Disco?"

"NO."

Yamada huffs, and taps his chin thoughtfully.  
"How about… Amber?"

Now it's Aizawa's time to blink with confusion, lowering the kitten in his arms to hold against his chest.

"Amber?"

Yamada smiles, stealing the cat from Aizawa's grasp and turning it the other way so the latter can see its little face.  
"Amber, like his eyes! Think it suits the little guy?"

Aizawa's lips quirk into a wry smile, and he fixes his hands at it hips while quirking an incredulous eyebrow at them both.  
"You know she's a girl, right?"

Yamada shrugs and grins.  
"Hey, Amber is a pretty feminine name too."

Aizawa lifts a finger to gently scratch underneath the little kitty's chin, feeling pleased when she begins to purr contentedly. "I guess it's not a bad name."

"I mean, I'd still go for Glitter if you'd let me, but—"

"We're not naming her Glitter."

"Glitter can be the surname!"

"What would a cat do with a surname?"

Yamada's about to retort when his expression slowly contorts into one of petrified realisation and disgust.

"Oh my _god_."

"What?"

Aizawa looks down to see a steady stream of yellow liquid emitting from the kitten in the other man's clasp spray over Yamada's bare feet. He snorts.

"See? she doesn't like the name 'Glitter' either."

A resigned sigh. "Amber it is, then."


End file.
